


Forever is the Sweetest Con

by wesawbears



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Conman Jaskier, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tired Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, WItcher in the Wild West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28296519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesawbears/pseuds/wesawbears
Summary: A Witcher Secret Santa gift. A (loose) western AU where Jaskier likes nice things, Geralt likes sleep and money, and they somehow get their heads knocked together in the end.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31
Collections: The Witcher Secret Santa 2020





	Forever is the Sweetest Con

**Author's Note:**

> My giftee requested a Western AU, and conveniently, Taylor Swift released the song "Cowboy Like Me", so, yeehaw everyone!

Geralt walked into the saloon and let the giant centipede’s mandible thud loudly on the floor. The chatter in the room stopped, except for the soft sounds of banjo strings, which belonged to a young man who either had a death wish or simply couldn’t take a hint. Regardless, the saloon owner rushed over to inspect Geralt’s offering.

“There were three of them,” Geralt grunted. “Your land should be fine now. No more disappearances.”

“And...the missing?”

“Their bodies are there. You can do with them what you wish. Though I wouldn’t send those with a weak stomach. Sorry.”

The man nodded solemnly and pulled a coin purse from his side. Geralt took it from him and counted out the coins carefully, ensuring the amount was all they’d agreed on. When he determined it was satisfactory, he nodded and turned on his heel. The sooner he could find an inn and get centipede guts off of him, the better. 

\--

The next day, he woke early and prepared to get back on the road. A witcher’s life was certainly not a sedentary one, and with so many people traveling West and fucking up the natural wildlife, it had become unusually lucrative. People were desperate and while Geralt didn’t normally like to capitalize on those too down on their luck, he was happy to take the coin of those whose own greed led them to do stupid things like building a town next to the burrowing grounds of a bunch of giant centipedes.

He finished getting Roach ready and was leading her out of the stable when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He tensed and turned, wanting to see what unfortunate soul decided to try and rob a witcher.

“Oh! That...is a big sword. I’d ask if you were happy to see me, but, ah, you don’t seem the type to buy into that kind of humor.”

“Hmm.”

“Who am I, I hear you asking! My name is Jaskier and-”

“Don’t care. Fuck off.”

He started to walk away, but heard determined footsteps behind. “You should care. I feel if we put our talents together, we could both come away very rich.”

“Not interested.”

“You seemed very interested in that coin purse earlier.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and turned to face the man. “What I’m interested in is getting paid to do my job. Not whatever hare brained scheme you’ve cooked up. I kill monsters. I get coin. There’s nothing you can do to help with that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, witcher. See, I have acquired a good deal of stories in my time, and witchers are full of stories. But people don’t like witchers, do they?”

“If this is what being liked gets me, I’ll take my chances.”

Undaunted, the man continued. “I could help you! Spread word of your tales, sing your praises. Increase your coin. You think you got a good deal from that saloon owner? There’s dozens out there like him, just as stupid, who would pay double that for the same job, if only they had a little nudge from yours truly.”

Geralt scoffed. “You’re how old? What would you know about people?”

“Quite a lot, thank you very much! And I’m 19. But I listen. People aren’t that difficult to read when you learn how to listen.”

“And you do?” Geralt asked, leaning against the side of the stall.

“I have to. It’s part of the trade.”

“Hmm.” Geralt eyed him, taking in this strange man in front of him. Eventually, he turned back to Roach. “Fine. Come along. It’s your funeral.”

\--

Months passed and somehow, it was not Jaskier’s funeral. Geralt assumed he would get tired of walking, of not having a warm bed at night, of only having Geralt for company, but some stubbornness must have edged out his discomfort. And Geralt knew he was uncomfortable- he complained constantly, but each night, he settled around the campfire, playing softly while rabbit or squirrel cooked over the fire and listened while Geralt told his stories in halting, sporadic thoughts. 

He hated to admit it, but it was nice, having someone to share the road with. Most of the time.

Whenever they traveled into town, however, he was reminded of what an absolute pain Jaskier could be. All he wanted was a drink before heading back to the inn they were staying at and preparing for the next day’s hunt. Instead, he was treated to the sight of Jaskier making himself at home next to a group of women close to the bar. It shouldn’t bother him. It didn’t bother him. It was Jaskier’s job to ingratiate himself to whoever came along, charm them. Jaskier told him time and time again that what he had with those people was never personal, strictly business.

It was easier, then, to understand that what he and Jaskier had was also strictly business. It shouldn’t bother him. And yet, every time he saw Jaskier spend the night with another, only to return triumphant with an expensive trinket or swiped bundle of coins, he felt an ache deep in his bones.

It hurt, to be just another transaction. A means to an end. He might not pay Jaskier, or afford him any trinkets to sell or hoard, but he provided shelter, food, companionship between beds. That was all he would ever be.

He made his way over to the bar, grunting his assent when the barkeep offered him a drink. As she handed it to him, she leaned her elbow on the counter and looked at him.

“Drowning your sorrows over something in particular, witcher?”

“I’m drinking alone.”

She snorted and he glowered. Not many humans were willing to provoke him (except Jaskier), but she had clearly seen enough rough folk to not be cowed by him. “I can see that.”

“Hmm,” he intoned, hoping she would take the hint and end the conversation there. Unperturbed though, she pressed on.

“Seems you don’t have to. That one keeps glancing at you.” She inclined her head slightly and he could see that she was referring to Jaskier. He rolled his eyes.

“He’s a friend.”

“Just a friend?”

“Mmm.”

She nodded slowly. “See, I’d believe that. But I’ve tried to make enough men jealous myself to know the look.”

“Hmm.”

She clicked her tongue. “Not the chatty type. I get it. But think about what I said.” She turned back to other patrons and left Geralt to ruminate on what she’d said. 

Eventually, the night wore on and he decided it was time to take his leave, before the truly unruly patrons started to act up. He glanced back at Jaskier, who gave him a smile before turning back to his latest conquests. Satisfied that he would be fine until morning, he headed back to the inn to try and get some rest.  
\--

He did not, in fact, get the sleep he was looking for, but instead sat and restlessly tried to avoid thinking about the barkeep’s words. There was no reason for Jaskier to try and make him jealous. If he wanted Geralt, he had plenty of opportunities when they were alone to make a move. He wasn’t shy about going after what he wanted. Geralt thought himself in circles, but they all led to the same conclusion. 

Sometime before the sun rose, he heard Jaskier fumble in. “Geralt? Are you awake?”

“I am now,” he grumbled, despite not actually being asleep.

“Good, good. Do you want to see what I got?”

“No.”

“Wonderful.” 

He sat heavily at the edge of Geralt’s bed, shoving his feet aside to make room. He smacked Geralt’s leg until he looked at him, practically punching him in his fervor to show Geralt the ring on his finger.

“Are congratulations in order?”

“No, you ass. But it is pretty, isn’t it?” Jaskier looked down to admire it. It was simple, adorned with a modestly sized opal.

Geralt sighed. “Stealing people’s weddings rings seems like a new low, even for you.”

Jaskier scoffed. “I didn’t steal them! I can’t help it that people like to give me nice things. Besides, if you’re mean to me, I won’t give you your present. Close your eyes.”

Geralt did so against his best judgement and felt as Jaskier put something small in his hand.

“Okay. Open.”

He opened his eyes and found a small gold band in the center of his palm.

Jaskier’s eyes shone. “Just think. If we wear them and act like we just got married, they might give us a free room! Or...a room upgrade at least. It’s great, right?”

Geralt swallowed.

“Or…” Jaskier backtracked. “We could melt it down? I’m sure we’d get money for the gold?”

“Fine. Whatever you want to do.”

“Geralt? Did I...offend you?” He bit his lip. “Look, I know you would never actually marry me. This is just...a con. But, if even the thought of it offends you, I’ll...I won’t bring it up again.”

“It’s fine.”

Jaskier tapped nervously on his thighs. “Geralt, please. I don’t want this to get in the way of our friendship. If you want me to go…”

“I don’t.”

“Okay. Well, that’s a relief. Then why won’t you look at me?”

Geralt sighed. He wasn’t like Jaskier, couldn’t say what he wanted to say and make it all fit together somehow. His words were stilted, difficult.

“I don’t want to pretend.”

“I already told you, Geralt, we don’t have to do that if you don’t-”

Geralt moved forward to kiss Jaskier, who just let out a surprised ‘oh’ against his mouth. He didn’t pull away though, relaxing into Geralt’s touch. After a moment, he pulled away, looking for something he couldn’t name in Jaskier’s eyes. Acceptance? Joy?

“That...yeah. We can...you want to? With me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the wordsmith?”

Jaskier glowered at him. “The man I’ve been hopelessly in love with for months just kissed me. Forgive me for not recovering immediately.”

“You- months?”

“You didn’t know? Geralt, I’ve been making moves for months? You really didn’t notice?”

“...no.”

Jaskier huffed a laugh. “Well. Then let me make myself abundantly clear. I like you. I would like to do this and other things with you in the future. If you would like.”

“I would...like. That.”

“Perfect,” Jaskier said, leaning in to capture Geralt’s lips again. 

After a while, Jaskier lay on Geralt’s chest, and Geralt felt the first threads of sleep calling him. Before he could though, he heard Jaskier speak up again.

“So, does this mean that we can do the marriage con?”

“Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

“Fiiiiiiine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @demisexualgeralt for witcher stuff or wesawbears for everything else.


End file.
